Shadow of Freedom

“The last thing anybody on the other side’s going to be interested in at this point is accurate reportage,” he pointed out. “They’ve never felt any compunction about distorting the truth to justify their peacetime policies; why in heaven’s name should they hesitate for a minute to manufacture atrocities out of whole cloth in wartime? And they won’t even have to manufacture these. We’ll have provided the visuals; all they’ll have to do is cut and edit and modify the audio.”

“Should we be providing it at all, then, Sir?” Pope asked, his eyes troubled.

“Of course we should. Sooner or later this war’s going to be over. When that happens, accurate records are going to be essential, and not just from a dry, historical perspective. Even more importantly, we need to show our people what this is really about right now, while it’s happening. That’s the real reason I want Stilt to make sure we have every bit of this absolutely certified and verified. I’d love to see some of the people in Old Chicago responsible for this”—he tossed his head in the direction of those pitiful, decaying bodies—“treated to the same penalty, but I don’t see that happening unless we actually physically occupy Old Terra, and somehow I don’t see that happening, either. We can always hope, though. And in the meantime,” his voice dropped, turning as icy as his eyes, “I want this evidence available when we deal with the people who actually did it.”

“Yes, Sir.” Pope nodded firmly. “I understand. But it’s—”

“Excuse me, Commander,” Atalante Montella interrupted respectfully. Pope and Terekhov turned towards her, and she looked at the commodore. “I don’t have Mr. Breitbach, Sir,” she said, “but I do have Ms. Blanchard.”

“Do we have visual, or just audio?” Terekhov asked.

“Both, Sir. The signal quality isn’t very good, though.”

“Put her on the main display,” Terekhov directed, and turned towards the display as a woman’s image appeared on it. She was dark-haired and dark-eyed, with a strained, exhausted face smudged with dirt. An ugly bruise discolored her right cheek and temple, and a Solarian built pulse rifle was slung across her shoulder as she crouched over what was obviously a handheld com.

“Ms. Blanchard, I’m Commodore Aivars Alexsovitch Terekhov, Royal Manticoran Navy,” he said. “We’re here in response to Ms. Summers message.”

“Summers?” Blanchard’s voice was as exhausted as she looked, and she shook her head. “Was that the name?” She grimaced. “I didn’t know. Operational security.”

“I don’t think operational security’s going to be an issue very much longer,” Terekhov told her grimly.

“Maybe not. It’s the only reason some of us are still alive, though.” She scrubbed her hand across her face, smearing the dirt.

“I can believe that. Are you ready to trust me, though?”

“You had this com combination, and we saw the explosions from down here.” She shrugged. “We’ve been getting our asses kicked for the last week. I don’t see the bastards deciding they have to get tricky at this point.”

“So I’ll take that as a yes?” he asked dryly.

“Exactly.” She managed a quick, fleeting grimace of a smile. “Oh, and by the way, we’re happy as hell to see you.” She shook her head again. “I’ve got to say, when Michael told me you folks were backing us, it surprised the hell out of me.”

“You’re not the only one,” he said even more dryly. Then his eyes narrowed. “On the other hand, you just mentioned ‘Michael.’ Am I correct in assuming that was a reference to Michael Breitbach?”

“Yeah.” She made a face. “After all this time, knowing you know both of our names makes me a little nervous. Nothing personal.”

“Understandable. But may I ask why we got you at this combination and not him? My understanding from Ms. Summers was that this was Mr. Breitbach’s combination.”

“It is.” Her weary voice was suddenly leaden. “Unfortunately, he’s not here to answer.”

“What happened?”

“He was on his way to meet with one of our cell leaders and there was a sweep through the area. He didn’t come back.” She raked the fingers of her right hand through her short cut, filthy looking hair.

“Do you think Yucel and Lombroso know who they caught?”

“No way.” She shook her head hard. “It would’ve been all over what’s left of the news channels if they knew they’d gotten him. He was unarmed, and he wasn’t even carrying his com…which is why I happen to have it.” Her image moved dizzyingly on the display as she swept the hand holding Breitbach’s com around for emphasis. “I’m guessing they figure he’s just one more civilian they’ve swept up.”

“All right.” Terekhov nodded. “That makes sense.” He pursed his lips for a moment. “I haven’t contacted Lombroso or Yucel yet. What’s your situation? The real situation, I mean, not what they’re putting out on the information channels.”